


Turnabout Destinies

by Captain_Kieren



Series: Ripples [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic, Arthur Lives AU, Arthur and Merlin are soulmates no one can tell me otherwise, Arthur knows he would be a mess without Merlin, Bromance, But also not, Caring Arthur, Court Sorcerer Merlin, Destiny, Epic Bromance, Everyone knows about Merlin's magic, Friendship, Gen, Hurt Merlin, Hurt/Comfort, Made up Mythical Creatures, Post S5E13, Post Series, Post battle of camlann, Protective Arthur, Protective Knights, Sequel, Sickfic, Still not slash, Whump, Worried Arthur, and also angry at times, but can absolutely be read that way if you want, gwaine loves his alcohol, hurt Arthur, it's a little like the kindness of strangers tbh, kinda sorta, knock yourself out, oh yeah gwaine also lives bc i love him dont judge me, or a standalone, overuse of the language of the old religion, series entry, seriously its in there a lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-27
Updated: 2015-03-27
Packaged: 2018-03-19 20:00:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3622392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captain_Kieren/pseuds/Captain_Kieren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While on a routine patrol around the border of Camelot, Arthur, Merlin and knights are attacked by a seemingly invisible assailant and the newly appointed court sorcerer is badly wounded.  They retreat into a nearby watchtower to regroup but it's clear whatever malevolent beast is hunting them doesn't intend to let them go so easily...</p><p>Basically the whumpiest whumping whumpstorm you will ever see.  Not Slash but can be read as such if that's what pleases your little heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turnabout Destinies

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry it took so long to get this out! I don't really have a good excuse other than school and my own laziness... But hey, it's here now! So enjoy! Sequel to DEEP IN THE DIAMOND OF THE DAY. --one year later--

_I sense there's something in the wind_

  
_That feels like tragedy's at hand_

  
_And though I'd like to stand by him_

  
_Can't shake this feeling that I have_

  
_The worst is just around the bend_

  
_~~"Sally's Song", by Danny Elfman_

* * *

 

"Quit being such a girl, _Mer_ lin! It is _not_ that cold out here!"

  
"Says the man wearing two tunics, three pairs of trousers, heavy socks, leather boots, chain mail, _and_ a cloak."

  
"...I told you to dress warm."

  
"No, Arthur, you said to remind George dress _you_ warm."

  
"I suppose you should have taken the hint, then."

  
"Maybe I _would_ have had you informed me I would be going with you. By the way, why _am_ I here? I'm not your servant anymore."

  
"We've talked about this, _Mer_ lin, part of your duty as court sorcerer is to accompany me on patrols."

  
"Speaking of which, why are _you_ here? Isn't there some noble family coming to stay in the castle next month? Shouldn't you be preparing?"

  
"Guinevere assured me she has it covered. She told me to get out of the castle for a while, relax for a bit."

  
"So to relax, you decided to go on patrol with the knights...?"

  
"Well it's relaxing to _me_ , Merlin. Unlike you, I'm not a _dainty little flower_ who gets all out of sorts from being in the woods."

  
"I'm not out of sorts...and even if I am, it's not the woods doing it to me."

  
"Oh? Then what it _is_ doing it?"

  
"You. You prat..."

  
" _Mer_ lin--"

  
"Just like old times..." Gwaine finally interrupts, earning an amused snicker from the rest of the knights, who had fallen into a sort of thoughtless daze between the humdrum of their early-morning patrol and the monotonous bickering from the two lead horses.

  
"Indeed." Leon agrees with a chuckle. "The last time I heard two people squabbling so often, it was an old married couple."

  
"At least they keep things interesting." Percival adds humorously.

  
"Oi, remember you're referring to your king!" Arthur calls over his shoulder, trying to sound commanding but failing miserably as his men only laugh in response. Huffing out a sigh, he glances back at Merlin, assuming at least he would be on his side. But of course, the young sorcerer is laughing right along with them. Typical.

  
_At least Merlin's feeling better._ Arthur finds himself thinking. For months after the Battle of Camlann, the sorcerer's health was in a constant state of limbo. Some days, he was perfectly fine. Able to run errands for Gaius to the lower town and help Arthur work on the new laws concerning magic. But other days were living nightmares... Merlin would wake feeling alright but as the day went by, he would get weaker and sicker until he was ashen and grey and could hardly stand. On the worst of those days, Merlin would sometimes fall asleep and nothing would wake him. His breathing would become so shallow and uneven that everyone was terrified he wouldn't make it, despite his injury being entirely healed by the spirit of the lake.

  
Gaius told him it was because his magic was still readjusting, that his body had been dead and Merlin's magic had gone dormant. He said that it was waking up again and causing havoc in Merlin's body. He also said that they should count themselves lucky he was only dead for a few moments, otherwise his magic's reaction might have been more violent. There might have been no saving him.

  
On one of those days when Merlin wasn't exactly at the peak of his health but was well enough to sit in Arthur's chambers and talk about the new laws, the king had asked him about it. _"Gaius tells me it's your magic making you sick like this."_ He'd said out of the blue, startling his friend, who evidently still wasn't used to talking openly about his powers.

  
_"Erm, yes. That's what we think..."_

  
_"But how does that work? I mean, it's magic, it's not your blood or your organs...how is it making you ill this way?"_

  
Merlin's smile had been unexpected...and strangely soft, as if they were talking about a misunderstood loved one. _"For anyone else, that might be true. Their magic might not affect them so greatly but for me...well, it's a little different."_

  
_"How so?"_

  
_"Well, as you know, I was born with my powers. I didn't learn them or seek them out...for whatever reason, they're a part of me. Magic is just as important to my body as my blood or bones or breath..."_

  
It was strange, thinking of Merlin as a sorcerer. It was even stranger thinking of him as--according to Gaius--the strongest sorcerer in the world, and someone who's abilities were so ingrained in his body and soul that if they were thrown off, even a bit, it could effect him so greatly.

  
_"I see."_ Had been his only response. He hadn't pushed for anymore information and Merlin seemed alright to let the topic drop, probably glad not to have to discuss it any longer. It was true that Arthur had decided to accept his friend's powers and the ban had been lifted...but that didn't mean either of them were particularly comfortable talking about it after all the lies and deciet it took to get them to that moment. It didn't mean Arthur wasn't still hurt his that friend hadn't trusted him enough, that Merlin had gone behind his back so many times. Or that Merlin wasn't still used to hiding and lying and covering his tracks.

  
It would take time, _a lot_ of time for things to truly return to the way they were but as long as both of them were willing to try, they were certain their friendship could withstand the strain.

  
And to be honest, most of the reason Merlin is on this patrol right now is because these past few weeks have been so busy they haven't been able to talk at all. And secretly, nothing scares Arthur more than the idea of them growing apart. He isn't sure it's possible because according to Merlin, it's literally their destiny to be friends... But it's still a frightening prospect, being king without the steady presence of his friend by his side.

  
Lord knows he came close to that already. It's been almost a year now since Merlin died in his arms and he still can't shake the feeling of terror that tingles down his spine whenever he thinks of how close he came to losing him. How close he came to having to build a funeral pyre for his best friend, how close he came to having to rule Camelot-- _their_ kingdom, _their_ people--alone.

  
True he would have Guinevere but...he has the sickening feeling that even her illuminating glow on his life would pale a bit if Merlin were to die...

  
_Nothing_ would be the same.

  
"Arthur?"

  
It's only then that the king realizes how silent the woods have fallen around them. His companions' laughter must have died down long ago, expecting the good-natured arguing to pick back up again. It's with a slightly irritated blush that he realizes he's been brooding for quite a time now. "What is it, Merlin?" He asks, trying to sound light-hearted. But of course his friend sees right through it.

  
"Is something wrong?" He asks quietly.

  
And to that, the king shakes his head. "Course not. I was just thinking..." He mutters, still a bit distant.

  
"Well be careful not to think too much, wouldn't want you to hurt yourself." Merlin replies quietly, a small, ornery smile on his face.

  
At the chorus of snorts and laughter behind them, Arthur smirks. Oh, how close he came to losing this.

  
"Shut up, Merlin."

* * *

  
"All right, men, the next patrol should be leaving right about now. Let's head back." Arthur calls back to his knights, earning an eager nod from them.

  
"I'm heading to the tavern as soon as we return. Anyone care to join me?" Gwaine asks cheerfully as they steer their horses back along the path toward Camelot. When no one responds, the rugged knight scoffs and grumbles, "Well don't all jump at once, mates."

  
"Sorry, Gwaine." Merlin laughs. "I don't think anyone's in the mood to lose one of your drinking games today."

  
"Well if you'd all quit being such light-weights, maybe you'd stand a better chance against me!" He counters, shaking his head.

  
"Light-weights, he says." Leon snorts with a roll of his eyes. "Gwaine, compared to you, _everyone's_ a light-weight!"

  
"Not true!" Percival responds immediately. "I gave him a run for his money the last time!"

  
"Percival, it took four grown men to carry you out of the tavern and Gwaine was one of them. You didn't give _anyone_ a run for their money." Arthur retaliates with a bark of laughter, hearing the other knights joining him in his mirth. Well, all of them except-- "Merlin?" He asks, turning the rest of the way around to find the sorcerer's horse standing perfectly still a little ways to their right, the dark haired man staring intently into the forest. "Merlin? What's the matter?" He asks again, slowing his mare--Llamrei--to a stop as well.

  
For a long moment, Merlin doesn't reply. Doesn't move. There's a tension in his shoulders that immediately makes Arthur uneasy. Before discovering the man's secret, he might have cracked a joke about his servant being a girl and being scared of bunny rabbits or something... But now knowing what he's capable of and sensing the clear weariness about him...something doesn't feel right. But just as Arthur is about to ride closer to see what's wrong, Merlin taps his horse's side without looking away from the treeline and rides back to the king's side. Finally, the tears his gaze away from the trees and meets Arthur's concerned eyes.

  
"It's nothing." He says, unconvinsingly. "Thought I heard something."

  
But Arthur still doesn't move, a heavy frown settling over his mouth. "Merlin," He begins, unsure of how to word this. "You know you don't have to...keep anything from us anymore...right?"

  
The sorcerer pauses for a moment before nodding his head. "I know." He assures him. "Truly, there's nothing there, I looked. Must just be my ears playing tricks on me." He smiles and it looks relatively at ease so Arthur decides to accept his friend's words and nods his head.

  
"Alright then." He says, clicking his tongue at Llamrei so she continues trotting down the path, the rest of the knights riding a little closer behind than before...

* * *

  
The sound had been unlike anything Merlin had ever heard. It was something akin to a snake's hiss but also very different, more...gutteral...more than that, it was a bit like something very heavy dragging itself through the bushes, clawing at the soil with talons surely large enough to gut a full grown man.

  
But in all honesty, it wasn't even the sound that first got his attention as he rode alongside Arthur. It was a...feeling. Like as soon as they'd entered this part of the woods, they stepped into some kind of dark, foreboding aura. He wonders if the others can feel it but decides they probably can't. After all, if they could, they wouldn't be talking as loudly as they are now. More than likely, they would be just as tense and silent as he is, senses on high alert because he's suddenly very certain they aren't as alone as they thought they were.

  
_Maybe it's nothing._ He tries to tell himself. _But then again, when is it ever nothing?_ Just because Morgana's dead, that doesn't mean there aren't still vengeful sorcerers roaming about or creatures of magic stalking them from the shadows, preparing to pounce... And if there was ever an atmosphere to prelude an attack by a vicious monster, this would be it.

  
But they continue riding, Merlin's magic stretching and searching the dark trees around them, like long arms ready to strike. In his mind's eye, he can see the path ahead, empty and perfectly safe. And yet goosebumps crawl up his spine like tiny spiders and a cold shiver runs through him.

  
_We are definitely not alone here._

* * *

  
After a while, the playful conversations break and the five men fall into a comfortable silence. Fortunately, the only sounds any of them hear are the crunching of snow under their horses' hooves, the snapping of a twig when Gwaine's cloak catches on a bush for a second, and the clinking of the knights' chain mail and armor.

  
Merlin doesn't hear anymore hissing or dragging, although that dark aura never fades and never becomes any less noticable. In fact, by the time they're nearing the edge of the forest, the young sorcerer is so jumpy that when his horse--Delyth--whinnies affectionately from the constant, nervous strokes he's laying down her mane, he quite literally flinches right out of the saddle, landing heavily in the snow beneath his mount.

  
Of course this earns him an immediate round of amused laughter from his companions, even Arthur's head is thrown, a wide smile on his face. After the initial hilarity, Gwaine drops to the ground beside him and pulls him to his feet.

  
"You alright, Mate?" He asks, still snickering as he swats a bit of mud off the boy's shoulder. Merlin, a bit red in the face from embarrassment, nods and thanks him. He heads back to Delyth, who loyally waits for her rider a few feet away, while Gwaine remounts his own horse.

  
However, before Merlin even gets the chance to bring his foot up to the stirrup, another wave of chilling shivers roll down his spine and he glances over his shoulder, the breath catching in his throat at what he sees in front of him.

  
"Merlin?" Arthur sighs in the background. "Come on, we're all tired. Quit spacing out and get back on your horse."

  
But the king's voice is muffled by the sudden thumping of his heart as he stares into the pair of glowing, yellow eyes hovering in the trees before him. How the others haven't seen it yet, he has no idea...

  
"Merlin? _Mer_ lin?"

  
"Arthur..." He whispers, slowly turning to face the eyes that don't appear to be connected to anything. "Don't move..."

  
"What?" The king demands, taken aback. He tries to follow his friend's petrified gaze but sees nothing in the darkness of the woods. "What's the matter?"

  
"We're being watched."

  
Hearing that, the knights immediately reach for their swords. They don't draw them yet, heeding Merlin's warning not to move too much, but their weapons are gripped in strong fists, ready to fight at a moment's notice.

  
"Merlin..." Arthur urges quietly, actually unsure of what to say, so he lets the name linger, allows the sorcerer to hear the urgency in his voice and let that be warning enough.

Merlin hears him but doesn't say anything in return. The eyes are still watching them, although no one else appears to be able to see them. Tilting his head slightly, he decides to try to communicate. Maybe that way it will figure out they don't mean it any harm. Assuming it thought that in the first place... _"Hello? I don't know if you can hear me but...we don't want to hurt you. We're just on patrol, making sure there are no bandits or whatnot."_ He pauses, pushing the message through, trying to feel if the creature recieves it. When he hears nothing in return, he frowns slightly. _"Hello? Can you even hear--"_

  
_"Em...rys."_

  
Merlin has just enough time to stiffen in surprise at the sudden, loud, hissing voice in his head when something flies out of the trees toward him. He hears the sound of cloth and flesh ripping...and then the knights are shouting in outrage and surging toward the woods, swords at the ready.

  
He's vaugely aware of the fact that he should yell for his friends not to follow that thing, that it's dangerous, he can feel it. But everything feels like it's going in slow motion as he lowers his gaze to his stomach, where the tearing sound had come from.

  
Confused, his brow bunches up at the sight of a long, green spine sticking out of his abdomen, his blue tunic beginning to soak with reddish black around the spine's base. Stunned, he reaches up, brushing the edge of it with his fingers...but then his knees buckle and he's sinking to the ground.

  
That's when Arthur reaches him, one of the king's hands finding Merlin's waist, the other clasping the back of his neck. "Lay back." He orders gently and suddenly Merlin's blurry mind is thinking of Finna, the mysterious woman of the Catha who saved his life last year...and revealed to him Arthur's intended fate during the Battle of Camlann. The information that allowed him to save his friend's life in exchange for his own... But when Arthur orders him once again, he nods jerkily and allows himself to be laid back on the ground.

  
His hand fumbles for the intruding spine but Arthur pins it down, telling him to lay still. "What the bloody hell was that thing?" The king asks as he shifts so that he's sitting directly by Merlin's side. He appears to be positioning himself for...something.

  
Merlin feels almost drugged. His mind is moving so slow and the edges of his vision are black and blurry. "I don't know..." He replies weakly. "Where are the others?"  
But Arthur only shakes his head. "Don't worry about them right now, I'm sure they're fine."

  
"What are you...doing?" Merlin groans, flinching at dull throb that has started up in his stomach. It actually takes him a moment to realize it's because he's been shot with...whatever that thing is.

  
"We've got to get this thing out of you, Merlin." Arthur says, almost apologetically. "It'll only cause more damage if you move...and we can't stay here with that thing about."  
Apparently, Merlin's mind is coming back to him because he knows what his friend is implying. He also knows he's right, the spine needs to be removed... The young sorcerer locks his jaw and nods his head. A moment later--

  
"AHH!" The scream rips out of his throat before he can stop it, his body jerking up in pain as Arthur yanks the projectile from his abdomen. Immediately, he feels Arthur's hand squeeze his shoulder and the other one gently touches the side of his face.

  
"I'm sorry." The king says hurriedly, "Come on, let's get you back on your horse so we can go as soon as the knights return."

  
Merlin is still grinding his teeth in agony but he allows his friend to help him sit up and eventually stand, although he almost instantly falls back to his knees with a cry of pain, blood leaking in between his fingers and dripping into the white patches of snow by their feet. He hears Arthur swear and then the king is kneeling in front of him.

  
"Merlin? Merlin, come on, look at me."

  
His voice echoes in Merlin's head and it's strange because he's been wounded many times before with injuries just as serious as this and never before have things felt so...sideways and strange. Like his mind isn't really his own. But regardless, he forces his eyes open again--not that remembers closing them--and meets Arthur's steady, if not fearful, gaze.

  
"Merlin, focus. Can you heal your wound? With magic?"

  
_Oh right...magic._ For a moment, he wavers, the world dipping at a painful angle that makes his head spin.

  
"Merlin!"

  
"I'll try..." He grinds out, letting Arthur steady him as he places a hand over his wound and bows his head slightly, wincing at the movement. " _Gehælan þæs gyrnstafas_." He whispers, voice raw with misery. The sorcerer's eyes flash gold...but nothing happens. Well, actually, with his magic flowing freely, Merlin's head feels slightly clearer than before, but other than that, his injury doesn't seal and he can feel Arthur's grimace even without seeing it. Shifting slightly, he tries again. " _Bideáglian þæs gyltig bealubenn_!"

  
At the pulse of magic that goes through him, Merlin almost doubles over, gasping and panting in exhaustion and pain. His hand trembles when he lowers it, observing the still fresh wound, entirely unchanged even with the strongest healing spell he knows...

  
"What's going on? Why won't it heal?" Arthur growls but Merlin only shakes his head.

  
"I'm rubbish at healing spells..." He admits, wincing in pain when his friend jumps slightly at the sound of the knights stomping back through the brush and back onto the path.  
"Is Merlin alright?" He hears Gwaine demand of Arthur, who pauses before nodding his head.

  
"But he needs a physician, we have to get him back to Gaius." Suddenly, there are strong hands under his armpits and even though his legs feel like jelly, they straighten up and move mechanically in the direction they're guided in. Sounds mute around him and all he can hear is the flutters of his heart, the racing of his blood... He feels his head tipping backwards and a muffled voice shouts his name. Everything is dark and quiet and his entire body feels fuzzy. He's cold.

  
_"Merlin?!"_

  
_"Merlin, hey, mate, can you hear me?"_

  
_"We need to move, that thing is still out there somewhere."_

  
_"Sire, his injury is too serious, he can't make it back to Camelot."_

  
_"...you're right. There's an old watchtower nearby, Gwaine and I will take him there. Percival, Leon, ride on toward Camelot. Bring Gaius and more men with you. Be extremely careful."_

  
_"Yes Sire."_

  
_"...he's going to be alright, princess. Merlin's tougher than he looks."_

  
_"I know..."_

  
**_"...Em...rys..."_ **

* * *

  
When it first happened, Arthur wasn't really sure what to think. One second, Merlin was just standing there looking into the woods and in the next second, his body was jerking backwards, some kind of spine jutting from his abdomen. Then the knights were roaring in fury and the chasing the invisible beast away with their swords held high.

  
Now the knights are gone again, save for Gwaine, and Merlin is limp and pale in the king's arms. The watchtower isn't far and it will be easier on Merlin's wound not to have to ride a horse right now. So instead, Gwaine leads the animals and Arthur cradles Merlin's motionless body close to his chest, heart aching because this is all so damn familiar.  
Not even a year ago...not even a single year has passed...

  
_"Just...just stop, Arthur...just stop..."_

  
_"What do you mean stop?! We're here! We're at the lake now, dammit, Merlin, tell me what I need to do! We're not too late!"_

  
_No man is worth your tears..._

  
_"I want to say something I've never said to you before...thank you."_

  
_He's gone..._

  
No one knows just how close they all came to losing him that day. Not Guinevere, not Gwaine, or Percival, Leon, or Gaius. No one but Arthur saw Merlin die that day, held him in his arms as the life ebbed from his body, leaving him cold and empty. No one saw the king of Camelot sob freely over the body of his friend. No one but Arthur knows what it's like to live without Merlin, if only for a short time. So no one can truly understand the sudden resolute, stony expression on Arthur's face.

  
He doesn't care that Merlin won't open his eyes, he doesn't care that he won't answer his words, he doesn't care that Merlin is cold and bleeding in his arms. He doesn't care. He's done this before and it was much worse than this. They had to go an infinitely further distance, Merlin had been much weaker and much sicker. He doesn't care that it seems impossible for them to do this a second time and not lose something precious in the process. He doesn't care. Because they will make it.

  
_I won't lose him again._

* * *

  
It takes nearly ten minutes to reach the watchtower. Ten minutes spent constantly looking over their shoulders with each snap of a twig, each rustle of the bushes... The horses seem content but then again, they hadn't offered much warning in advance to the creature's first appearance either. So Arthur keeps his pace quick and light, careful not to jostle his wounded friend too much.

  
"Bring the horses in if you can." Arthur says to Gwaine as he passes through the open archway of the tower, twisting his body so Merlin's feet don't clip the wall as they enter. "No way to know if that thing is still about out there."

  
Gwaine mutters something that sounds strangely obedient and Arthur glances over his shoulder, a little surprised by the headstrong knight's abrupt subservience. It's only then that he notices the distressed pinch between the other man's eyebrows and the way his gaze hangs sadly on his fallen comrade's ashen face.

  
Arthur frowns and looks away, not wanting to embarrass the man by catching him wearing such a worried expression. Although once Gwaine has managed to lead the horses through the smallish door of the tower and has them tied to a support beam in the center of the cramped room, Arthur says--without looking up from Merlin's face-- "I know you must be concerned, Gwaine, but rest assured, Merlin has suffered worse. Believe it or not..."

  
He can feel Gwaine looking at him but still Arthur doesn't look up. He isn't sure what the knight sees on his king's face but certainly it can't be much different from what his own expression is showing... Worry, anxiety, fear...

  
"So there's need to worry. I'm sure he'll be alright."

  
There's a small pause where neither of the men say anything and both of them are just studying the injured sorcerer's pale skin, the dark circles under his eyes, and the way his chest rises and falls reassuringly...although a little quickly for their liking. Then, Gwaine offers a small snort of laughter and when Arthur looks up, he's shaking his head slowly, a little crooked grin on his rugged face.

  
"Thanks, princess. I'll keep that in mind."

  
Arthur makes sure to pucker his lips in annoyance at being called 'princess' again and Gwaine laughs again, easier than before. But the moment is short lived as both men sober quickly, Gwaine moving to pull the heavy wooden door closed behind them as the king starts up the spiral staircase beside them.

  
He's almost to the top when he feels Merlin stirring in his arms. The sorcerer's blue eyes shine with pain and grogginess as they blink open but he looks surprisingly alert almost immediately. A confused expression touches his face for a moment at the sight of his body being cradled so closely to Arthur's chest.

  
"Just relax." Arthur tells him before Merlin even gets a chance to speak. "We're safe for now." He feels Merlin nod against his shoulder and by now, they've reached the top of the stairs and the king carefully sets his friend down against the wall, grimacing at the way he squirms in pain.

  
"What happened?" Merlin asks him in a voice rough with misery. He's looking around the watchtower almost suspiciously and Arthur can see the wheels turning in his head.  
"You were wounded by that creature in the forest...although I'm certain you've recalled that by now." The king begins slowly, turning his head just long enough to see Gwaine finally joining them upstairs before shutting the wooden door at the top of the steps. "We weren't sure how bad it was so we sought shelter here while Leon and Percival bring reinforcements."

  
Merlin seems to accept this although he still looks troubled for some reason. "How long have I been out?"

  
"Only a few minutes." Arthur assures him.

  
"And...that _thing_ hasn't come back again?"

  
"No, it disappeared just after it attacked you. Why?" Arthur tilts his head slightly at the way Merlin hesitates after his question. "Merlin...do you know something of this creature...?"

  
The sorcerer bites his lip for a moment before almost timidly nodding his head. "Nothing really useful but...just before it attacked me...it spoke to me."

  
"Spoke to you?" Arthur echoes immediately. "I didn't hear anything."

  
"You wouldn't have. It was telepathic." Merlin explains quickly, obviously meaning to move on.

  
"Tele-what?" Both Gwaine and Arthur asks almost simultaneously, giving each other odd looks immediately after.

  
Merlin sighs and shifts against the wall, a hand moving to cover his aching wound. "Creatures of magic can sometimes hear each other's thoughts and can project messages like speech, only it's silent to anyone else."

  
"And...that's what you heard? This...teleramic communication?"

  
"Telepathic." Merlin corrects with a roll of his eyes. "And yes."

  
"So...what did it say to you?" Gwaine asks.

  
"It said my name. Well...not my name, my Druidic name. It said Emrys."

  
"Emrys?" Arthur repeats. "That's what Morgana called you..." He recalls, images of his disturbed half-sister finding them in the forest and detailing to them how she planned to kill them and feed their corpse's to wolves... She'd called Merlin 'Emrys' that day and come to think of it, that's one of the many things he's yet to ask his friend about.

  
"Yes." Merlin confirms softly. "In the prophecy that foretold you becoming king and ruling over a united Albion, it called you The Once and Future King. It's in that same prophecy that I'm called Emrys."

  
"So...what does that mean? Why would a monster refer to you by some prophetic name?" Arthur demands, sitting back on his heels in frustration. Why can it never just be a normal animal? Why is it always some kind of evil creature of magic bent on darkness and destruction?

  
But Merlin only shakes his head. "I don't know." He admits. "I'm as in the dark as you are on this one. But..." He hesitates again and this time, it doesn't take the years of experience Arthur has reading Merlin's expressions to see that what he's about to say next probably isn't good. "I do know one thing. This creature isn't just some animal no one saw because it was dark in the woods... Whatever it is, if it was able to communicate with me, not only is it smart...it's also magical."

* * *

  
"Nnng!" Merlin's head grinds into the stony wall behind him as Arthur dabs at the bloody wound on his stomach with a wet strip of cloth from the king's own tunic, damp from one of the waterskins. They think the bleeding has slowed--if not stopped--but a lot of gore is wiping away onto the rag and Merlin is squirming in agony, his hands balled into fists and biting into his own palms. On the 'bright side', he doesn't think he's ever heard Arthur say 'sorry' so often in such a short amount of time.

  
While Arthur tends to Merlin, Gwaine is making himself useful by scoping out the rest of the tower, just to make sure they've got a safe place to retreat to in the event that the creature or some other assailant shows up.

  
By the time the wound is clean, the strip of cloth from Arthur's shirt has been stained from white to dark red, they've gone through almost an entire waterskin, and Merlin is trembling and his breaths come in short, ragged gasps.

  
"Sorry." Arthur says gently for probably the hundredth time as he sets the rag to the side and pulls down Merlin's tunic, cursing himself for not having the foresight to bring bandages. Then again, when does something like this ever happen on morning patrol? Never. That's why he decided to go on the earliest patrol possible to relax as Gwen suggested, because they're always uneventful and _boring_! But of course something has to go wrong, something always goes wrong.

  
"S'alright..." Merlin sighs, wriggling against the wall, desperate to find a sitting position that doesn't cause strain on his injury. "And thank you." He adds, closing his eyes as the edge of his sight begins to go dark again. "Don't think I could have done it myself..."

  
Arthur frowns at the sudden drowsiness in his voice and moves closer, gently slapping Merlin's cheek until the young man's eyes flicker open again. He almost laughs at the irritated look on his face but refrains himself. "Oh no you don't, idiot, the knights should be here soon, just stay with me a bit longer."

  
Merlin glares at him but doesn't close his eyes again. He's just opening his mouth to make some kind of snappy remark when Gwaine comes thumping down the stairs.  
"All clear." He reports dutifully. "Another floor above us and a roof."

  
"Well done, Gwaine." Arthur says with a small smile. "Any sign of the knights...?" He asks, discretely motioning to Merlin with his head. The sorcerer is still awake but in a great deal of pain. He needs a physician.

  
"Nothing yet, but it hasn't even been long enough for them to have returned to Camelot yet, let alone arrive here with Gaius and reinforcements--"

  
"You're bringing _Gaius_ out here?! With that thing about!" Merlin nearly shouts, his voice cracking with pain. "Have you both gone mad?! What if they get attacked?! Gaius can't--"  
"Merlin, calm down." Arthur interrupts cooly, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder. "He'll have Leon and Percival with him, plus as many knights they can fetch. I wouldn't have asked them to bring him if I thought his life would be in danger, you know that."

  
"Arthur--" Merlin tries to protest, only to get cut off again.

  
"Besides, the trip back to Camelot will go a lot easier if you get that wound seen to." Gwaine adds. "He'll be alright, Mate."

  
Merlin still isn't satisfied but he huffs out a defeated sigh, knowing nothing he says will change the situation. The knights have already left with their orders. It's too late even for Arthur to stop them from bringing Gaius... So he sits back against the wall again and tries to relax, wracking his brain for a decent healing spell that he might be able to pull off.  
"Gwaine, stay here with Merlin. I'm heading up to the roof to watch for the knights. I'll call...down...iiiif..."

  
Mid-sentence, Arthur's words go mute in Merlin's ears and the only thing he can hear is a soft...buzzing in his head. Gradually, the scene in front of him goes still and it's like the whole world has stopped around him. Gwaine and Arthur stand fixed in their spots, not moving, not blinking...frozen in place.

  
The injured sorcerer stares in confusion and terror, remembering the last time something like this happened... The day Morgana shattered the veil between their world and the other, releasing the murderous dorocha... He's just about to call out to whatever entity that has stopped time when a cold shiver rakes down his spine.

  
_"Emrys."_

  
And he releases an uneven breath because he recognizes the creature's voice. Loud and hissing but gravelly, echoing in the recesses of his mind. Merlin scans the room but sees nothing, even as the tower seems to darken around him as if night were falling...

  
_"What are you? Why are you following us?"_ He demands, pushing the message as far as it will go, still unsure if the creature can hear what he's saying.

  
Surprisingly, he does get a response. But not exactly the one he was asking for... _"Emrys,"_ The voice growls and somehow, Merlin's wound seems to throb with the sound of it. With a pained gasp, the sorcerer grimaces and wraps a hand around the wound, groping in the dark with his magic, trying to find the creature.. _. "Ic níedriht stefn eac ðu."_ It says and even though the words are clearly that of the Old Religion, Merlin can't decipher them quickly enough. His mind feels heavy and muddled, like he's been drugged and with each syllable it speaks, his wound aches more and more until he's doubled over and gasping for breath. _"ðu béon beinnan eorðbyrgen bróga, sé níehst sácerd sylfum sé þrileáfe gyden sy cyme."_

  
_"I can't understand you!"_ He sends back, body trembling.

  
_"Héo cwide abreotan ðu, Emrys, fæsting sé Cierr Ond Forþgesceaft Aldfriþ for ángilde hé canne gelésniss ðu fram sé drýicge."_

  
The edges of his vision are going dark, the pain becoming too intense from whatever the creature is saying. Looking down, Merlin whimpers quietly at the sight of his tunic soaking through with blood again. Lifting a shaking hand, he covers it with the heel of his palm, causing his weakened body to lose balance so he topples onto his side.

  
_"Ic béon cyme, Emrys."_ The beast hisses as the sorcerer's eyes fall closed and for the shortest of instants, a face flashes behind Merlin's eyelids. A twisted, inhuman face with a pair of yellow eyes glowing from somewhere far under the surface... And that's the last thing he comprehends before everything goes black around him.

* * *

  
"Merlin? Wake up, Mate, come on."

  
"AH!" Eyes snapping open, Merlin jerks back into consciousness. His chest heaves with near-panicked breaths but the firm hand on his shoulder anchors him in reality and reminds him it was just a dream. Or a nightmare...or maybe something else entirely. It felt real, he doesn't even remember falling asleep.

  
"You alright?" Gwaine asks him, squeezing his shoulder.

  
"Y-yeah..." Merlin sighs, shifting against the wall and draping a hand over his wound. At the very least, that part was just a dream. The bleeding hasn't started again, thank gods. "Suppose I had a nightmare..."

  
Gwaine smirks sympathetically and releases his shoulder, turning so that he sits beside his friend against the wall. "Well you're alright now. Nothin' to worry about."  
And Merlin smiles back. "Thanks, Gwaine."

  
Gwaine hums once in response and then for a while, neither of them say anything. Merlin wants to rest his eyes but doesn't feel like risking another nightmare so he forces himself to stay awake. He's just about to start up a conversation when Gwaine speaks instead.

  
Motioning to the boy's stomach, the rugged knight says, "Can't you...heal it?"

  
Merlin pauses, momentarily taken aback. It's weird enough talking to Arthur about his magic...sometimes he forgets everyone knows about it. Especially the other knights, who haven't mentioned it a bit since finding out. Well...until now. "Erm, I tried." He admits quietly. "But I'm terrible at healing spells."

  
"Really?" Gwaine asks, shifting to face him a bit more. Merlin is a little surprised to see genuine curiosity on his face, compared to the distant look Arthur always gets when he talks about Merlin's magic. "How? I mean...there's a difference? Between fighting and healing spells?"

  
Merlin can't help but chuckle a bit. "There are all sorts of spells, Gwaine. I'm better at some than others. Healing is one of the ones I'm not particularly gifted in."

  
"Hmm. So what are you gifted in then?"

  
Merlin can tell Gwaine is trying to distract him, to keep him awake and alert. And for that, he's thankful. So he decides to go along with it. _This is what I wanted, after all. To be able to talk freely about my magic._ "Um, the easiest ones for me are telekinesis, I suppose." He says, snickering at the way Gwaine lifts a questioning eyebrow. "That's being able to move things with your mind."

 

"Oh, I've seen sorcerers do that." He says. "That's how they're able to throw people? And objects?"

  
"Yeah." Merlin confirms. "I was able to move things with my mind before I could even walk. Although I can't imagine my powers were very controllable back then...must have been handful for my mother..."

  
Gwaine snorts with laughter and shakes his head, lightly shoving Merlin's arm although not hard enough to jar his wounded friend. The knight's voice is much softer when he speaks next, distant and thoughtful. "So it's true then. You were born with magic, you didn't try to learn it."

  
Merlin considers him for a moment, struck with the realization that Gwaine is just putting together things Arthur has known for almost a year. He suddenly feels almost guilty. Gwaine is his friend and yet he hasn't given him any kind of answers. Somehow, this is the first time he's even considered the notion that he might feel hurt over such a huge secret being kept from him.

  
All this time, Merlin has fretted and worried over Arthur's thoughts of him...but he has other friends too.

  
"Gwaine," Merlin begins, stealing a sideways glance at him. "Look, I'm...I'm sorry I never told you. I had to keep it a secret, for Arthur's sake..."

  
"I know that, Mate." Gwaine assures him. "No hard feelings."

  
"Thank you. Just...know that I did want to tell you and I almost did at some points..."

  
"Really?"

  
"Yeah...you're a good friend Gwaine and I always knew I could trust you...I just...I suppose I didn't want to put you or anyone else in the position that you'd have to lie for me."  
  
Gwaine's smile is genuine but sympathetic as he nudges the sorcerer again. "You always have been that way, Merlin. The 'suffer in the silence' type."

  
Merlin is about to reply when he hears footsteps thundering down the stairs. Both he and Gwaine snap their heads up to see Arthur hurrying down to their floor.

  
"The knights are here." He says as he heads straight for the door. "Gaius is with them." When Gwaine moves to follow him, Arthur motions for him to remain where he is. "Stay with him." He says quickly, nodding in Merlin's direction.

  
"I don't need a babysitter, Arthur!" The sorcerer shouts after him but the king ignores him, moving quickly to meet his men. "Prat." Merlin grumbles, wincing slightly. "I sometimes wonder if he realizes I'm capable of taking care of myself. He has no idea how many times I've been injured or in danger and I've always made it out just fine by myself."

  
Gwaine smirks at him and shrugs a shoulder. "The way he's acting, it's _almost_ like he cares about you or something..."

  
At that, Merlin snorts. "Almost."

  
A few moments later, Leon, Percival, and about a dozen more knights spill up the stairs, dispersing through the tower to keep watch while Gaius does his work. Said physician climbs the steps faster than Merlin has ever seen him move and the look on his face says he hasn't had a serene trip out here. He's been worried sick the whole time.  
"Merlin!" Gaius breathes, hurrying over to his ward.

  
"I'm fine, Gaius, really." Merlin assures him, flinching despite himself when he tries to sit up. "I'm sure the others made it sound worse than it is."

  
"I hope that's true." The old physician mutters as he kneels down beside Merlin, dutifully opening his bag of supplies. "I'd like to check you over though before we jump to that conclusion."

  
Sighing heavily, Merlin relaxes against the wall again. He knows his mentor very well and if there's one thing he's certain of right now, it's that he's not going anywhere until Gaius is satisfied he's in decent physical condition.

* * *

  
"Sire,"

  
Arthur turns at the sound of Leon's voice behind him. The two men are waiting on the roof of the tower, keeping watch for the creature in case it should appear. Or at least, that's the excuse Arthur is using. In reality, he isn't entirely sure his already twisting stomach can bear the sight of Merlin's wounds any longer. It may have been a year but the images of his friend laying lifeless and cold in his arms are still fresh and painful...

  
"Gaius is looking over Merlin as we speak. He said he'll have some answers as to his condition in a few minutes." The knight reports.

  
"Very good. Thank you, Sir Leon." Arthur replies, turning his gaze back toward the dark forest in front of them. That... _thing_ is still out there somewhere. The knights couldn't find it when they chased it off so it's still alive and, for whatever reason, seems to have something against Merlin, considering how it only attacked him and then fled. _And it spoke to him..._

  
"Sire?" Leon continues carefully. "If I may speak openly...?"

  
The king pauses his dark contemplations for a moment to glance over his shoulder, eyeing the typically well-mannered knight closely. "Of course." He says.

  
"I'm no physician, Sire, and I may be wrong but...we were both there when Merlin was attacked. You must have seen how pale he is..."

  
"What are you getting at, Leon?" Arthur grumbles.

  
"It's just that...he might not be able to make the trip to Camelot today. If Gaius deems it necessary to keep him here overnight to tend his wounds...we should have a plan in case that creature returns."

  
But Arthur only shakes his head and turns back toward the woods. "Rest assured, Leon, Merlin is fine." He says. "We'll all be back in Camelot by nightfall."

  
"And...if you're wrong, Sire?"

  
At the knight's words, Arthur feels an irriationally strong stab of anger in his chest. He's just about to whip around and sternly suggest Leon go keep watch on another floor--because how _dare_ he question his king? Merlin is going to be just fine!--when he sees the benignant expression on Leon's face and forces himself to relax. Yes, Merlin is going to be okay, no need to get all out of sorts.

  
"Besides," Arthur continues. "Just after he woke up, Merlin told us he knew something of the creature, that it's magical in nature. Meaning normal weapons won't fare well against it. All we can do is hope Gaius gives us good news..."

  
Leon nods his head, looking thoughtful. "Does Merlin know what it is?"

  
"No, he doesn't. Which is why I need as many eyes on the treeline as possible. We don't yet know what we're dealing with."

  
"Of course, Sire." And with that, Leon takes up his position on the opposite side of the roof, going silent once more.

  
Arthur leans forward on the edge of the tower, sighing quietly at the muffled sound of voices below him. Leon is right, of course, Merlin's wound is rather serious and if he can't make the trip, they'll need to stay here overnight. Maybe longer. "Leon."

  
"Sire?"

  
"I'll watch the roof, ask the men if any of them know any kind of sorcery. That may be our only weapon should that thing return."

  
"Yes Sire." With that, he jogs down the stairs to follow his orders, leaving Arthur alone to strategize. Although until he knows if any of the knights have managed to learn anything of the Old Religion in this past year, he can't plan very far. _At the very least, there's Excalibur._ He decides, running a thumb over the hilt of his sword. He's not looking forward to fighting some magical, spine-shooting monster...but if it comes down to it, he may be his men's only chance to escape. _At the very least, I can buy them time..._

* * *

  
"Hmm, the injury is deep but it doesn't appear to have pierced anything dreadfully important." Gaius determines, finally sitting back from his position hovering over his ward. "But you've lost a lot of blood and I'd like to administer some herbs to combat infection, should one begin. You're fortunate Arthur and Gwaine cared for you as well as they did, they managed to stop the bleeding."

  
Merlin nods but doesn't say anything in response. His body aches and his head feels fuzzy again. It's not until he feels his mentor's cool hand on his cheek that he realizes his head had drooped forward.

  
"Merlin?" Gaius asks softly.

  
"Mm." He hums in response, just to he knows he's still awake. And then he feels a hand on his shoulder, guiding him toward the floor.

  
"You should rest for a while." The physician says, sliding his rucksack under Merlin's head to act as a pillow. But the young sorcerer shakes his head.

  
"No, we need to get back to Camelot..." He grumbles. "That creature is out there...don't want anyone in danger..."

  
"No one is in danger, Merlin." Gaius assures him. "The knights are keeping vigilant watch. As we speak, Arthur is coming up with a plan to defeat it."

  
"Can't...not without magic." He hears his mentor sigh heavily as his eyelids flutter shut.

  
"He'll think of a way, I'm sure. Just sleep now, Merlin, you need to rest."

  
"Mm..."

  
_"Ic...béon...cyme, Emrys..."_

* * *

  
"Well?" Arthur urges as Leon rejoins him on the roof, but the blonde knight only shakes his head.

  
"None of the men have learned any sorcery, it seems many of them still find it untrustworthy..." He reports with a sigh. "That leaves only Merlin and Gaius who know any sort of magic."

  
"Well I'm not about to send _Gaius_ out to fight, nor Merlin right now."

  
"I understand, Sire...but that still leaves us with no way to defend ourselves."

  
"There is a way." Arthur tells him. "My sword, Excalibur. Many years ago, Merlin had it forged for me in a dragon's breath, not that I knew it at the time, of course... Regardless, now it's a blade able to kill the immortal and possibly slay magical beasts."

  
Leon's eyes widen a bit, looking intrigued. "But that means you would have to face it alone, Sire... That's far too dangerous. We still don't know what the creature is capable of."

  
"It'll be fine, Sir Leon. For all we know, Merlin will be perfectly alright to manage the trip and we'll be home before dark."

* * *

  
But as time goes on that day, it becomes clearer and clearer that Merlin is not okay to make the trip. After Gaius convinced him to rest, he's been in and out of consciousness, his sleep erratic and apparently plagued with nightmares, but while he's awake, he seems drained. Weak and tired, and soon slips back into his restless doze.

  
Gaius does all he can with what he managed to bring with him but soon, the young sorcerer has developed a small fever and even the physician's great skill isn't enough without the necessary resources. In short, they need to get him to Camelot but they can't move him until his wound is healed, for fear it might reopen and start bleeding again. And with the uncharacteristic weakness Merlin's body is displaying, no one wants to risk becoming stranded in the forest should his condition worsen.

  
"What can we do?" Arthur asks in a hushed voice from where he speaks to Gaius on the other end of the room where Merlin is currently asleep. "He needs help or he'll only get worse."

  
But Gaius appears to be as distraught and clueless as he is. "I'm afraid I don't have the answer, Sire." He admits quietly. "I've never seen him like this before. Even with all the injuries he's sustained over the years, Merlin has always been fast to recover. I don't know why his body is reacting this way..."

  
"You don't think the spine he was shot with could have been...poisoned, do you?" Arthur asks him, eager for any kind of answer at this point.

  
"I've already checked that, Sire. The spine itself is harmless."

  
"But what of this fever of his? Certainly he couldn't have taken ill with infection so soon."

  
"That's true, My Lord. You cleaned his wound well and I've administered herbs that should stave off any kind of infection..."

  
"Then what's the matter with him?!" Arthur demands, suddenly loud again. All eyes in the room turn to him for the briefest of moment before returning to their duties. Even Merlin moans quietly in his slumber.

  
"I can't say for certain, Sire, but..." Gaius begins softly and Arthur motions for him to continue. "But the only other explanation for why his magic already hasn't begun to heal him...is that it's his own magic doing it to him."

  
"His magic?" Arthur breathes, eyes widening in understanding. "You mean he could be relapsing into his illness from after the Battle of Camlann?"

  
"Perhaps not that same ailment, but something similar." Gaius says, motioning for Arthur to follow him as he returns to his ward's side, kneeling down to dab a wet cloth on his warm brow. "You mentioned Merlin told you the creature had spoken to him. Called him by his Druidic name."

  
"That's right." Arthur confirms. "But what does that have to do with him taking ill?"

  
"It could have _everything_ to do with it, Sire. The spine might not have been poisoned but the longer I think on it, the more assured I am that it did pass _something_ to him: a spell."

  
"A spell? Of what sort?"

  
"I do not know, My Lord. But I think it's safe to say that the creature isn't through with Merlin, yet. Perhaps it's trying to weaken him, make him vulnerable to attack. That would explain why it fled immediately after it harmed him."

  
And suddenly Arthur understands. Being an avid hunter himself, he knows this tactic... It may not be one of his favorites but he's used it on occasion with larger game. The hunter wounds its prey and allows it to flee, following from a safe distance until it's too weak to move... Then it moves in for the kill.

  
The king shivers as he turns to look at Merlin. Right now, the wounded sorcerer doesn't look like he could lift a finger, let alone defend himself...

  
"Do what you can for him, Gaius. Herbs, sorcery, whatever it takes. Get him better as soon as you can." Arthur orders stiffly as he turns toward the stairs.

  
"Of course, Sire...but I'm not sure there's much I can do."

  
"Well do your best. If we're right about the beast's tactics, it will be on us soon. I'm going up to the roof to keep watch, let me know as soon as he's even able to ride for a even a few miles. The best thing right now is to keep moving." _Because sitting here in this tower, we're no better than dying prey, perfect for the killing._

* * *

  
_"Ic...béon...cyme, Emrys...Ic...béon...cyme, Emrys...Ic...béon...cyme, Emrys..."_

  
_"I can't...understand you... I don't know...what you're saying..."_

  
_"Ic...béon...cyme, Emrys...Ic...béon...cyme, Emrys...Ic...béon...cyme, Emrys..."_

  
_"Do you...even know what I'm saying...?"_

  
_"Ic...béon...cyme, Emrys...Ic...béon...cyme, Emrys..."_

  
_"Please...I don't--"_

  
_"I...am...coming, Emrys."_

* * *

  
He wakes with a heavy gasp, body jolting in pain and fear as consciousness assaults him out of nowhere. For a second, everything is dark and blurry and he doesn't know where he is. Panic grips his heart and throat and his entire body is trembling. He's so cold but his skin feels hot compared to the stone floor beneath him. His midsection burns like fire and it's all he can do not to scream in agony.

  
And then suddenly, there's light in his glassy eyes and a voice cuts through the ringing in his ears. Hands touch his shoulder and his cheek and forehead and he welcomes the contact, clinging to the one on his shoulder in weak, shaking hands.

  
"Merlin?" It's Gaius's voice. "Merlin, can you hear me?"

  
" 's c'm'ng..." He pants, closing his eyes again because now the light is too bright. " _Sé ælwiht béon...cyme..._ " He whispers deliriously.

  
"Hush, Merlin." Gaius says gently, his cool hand brushing the boy's sweaty forehead. "It was just another nightmare."

  
"They're not...they're not nightmares..." Merlin groans, head lulling back and forth, his breaths coming in short, shallow rasps. "Too real..."

  
"Merlin--"

  
"Where's...Arthur...?"

  
The boy's mentor frowns and turns to wet a cloth in the basin of water beside them. Ringing it out, he places the cool cloth on Merlin's brow and the young sorcerer sighs pleasantly. "He's keeping watch on the roof."

  
"Need to...talk to...him..."

  
"What you need, Merlin, is to rest." Gaius reminds him. "Your body is reacting poorly to your injury. Right now, sleep is the best medicine."

  
"No...he's in...he's in danger...the creature is...is coming..."

  
"Arthur is perfectly safe, Merlin--" But Gaius is cut off by his apprentice's body giving a painful spasm and the boy choking out a cry.

  
" _Dreogan ne...afeohtan...sé Awirgan...Wéod..._ "

  
For a split second, Gaius only stares down at his young ward. It could be that Merlin is delirious and he doesn't know what he's saying but... Glancing down at the spine laying beside him, the physician's expression turns grim.

  
"Gwaine!" He calls out and the knight is by his side in no time at all. "Fetch Arthur, he needs to hear this."

  
_"Dreogan ne...afeohtan...sé Awirgan...Wéod...Arthur...dreogan...ne..."_

  
"It's alright, Merlin. Arthur is on his way."

  
"...A'thur..."

  
"What is it? What's happened?" The king demands as he hurries down the spiral staircase, blue eyes immediately sweeping over the prone form of his court sorcerer.

  
"Sire, come to listen to this." Gaius says, motioning for him to kneel by Merlin's side, which the king does without hesitation.

  
"Merlin, Arthur is here now. Tell him what you told me."

  
_"Arthur...dreogan ne afeohtan...sé...Awirgan Wéod..."_

  
At that, Gaius looks up, eyebrows risen as if he expects Arthur to understand any of that gibberish. "I thought he was speaking rubbish at first, Sire, delirious from the fever but what he's said just now makes me think otherwise."

  
"Why? What did he say?"

  
"The Awirgan Wéod is a creature of the Old Religion, very old and very powerful. It hasn't been seen for decades, not since long before the Great Purge."

"So...what does that mean?"

  
"Awirgan Wéod is often a bearer of prophecy, Sire... I've never seen it but it's said to be a part of the earth itself." With that, he picks up the spine they removed from Merlin's abdomen. "A bit like a mass of vines and stones...covered in spines."

  
Hearing that, Arthur sits back on his heels, staring down at his friend's pale, sweaty face. "So this creature...this Awirgan Wéod...is the one who attacked Merlin? And now it's trying to...what? Tell him something? Some kind of prophecy?"

  
"That would be my best guess, Sire." Gaius says.

  
"Then why go to the trouble of harming him? Why not just tell him this accursed prophecy and get it over with?!" The king jumps to his feet and swears under his breath. Why does magic have to be so damn confusing?!

  
"I don't know, Arthur."

  
Sighing in anger, Arthur paces the length of the room once before heading for the stairs. "I'm going back to keep watch. Now that I know what to look for, maybe--"

  
"There is one more thing, Arthur." Gaius calls out, causing the king to pause on the staircase. "I don't know what you're planning to do but I think Merlin does somehow. He's telling you not to fight the Awirgan Wéod."

  
Arthur stares down at his courter sorcerer for a moment, silently wondering how it is that he always seems to know what he's thinking. Running a finger over Excalibur's hilt, he nods his head and continues up the steps, leaving Gaius to tend his feverish ward.

* * *

  
Night descends quickly after that. The tower is plunged into eerie darkness and the knights seem to cling much closer to the torches than they usually would, their hands always by their swords, although they manage to maintain their brave faces. From atop the keep, Arthur watches the treeline with stern concentration, noticing each rustle of the bushes and every shift of the shadows, the tips of his fingers never leaving Excalibur, despite Merlin's 'warning' not to fight the creature. If it comes down to protecting his men, he'll have no choice.

  
But speaking of Merlin...

  
The king goes very still, now, listening for the sounds of his friend's delirious mumblings. When he hears nothing from below the thin stone under his feet, he sighs in relief. Maybe now, with his warning told, Merlin has managed to find some peace. Gods know he needs it.

  
He's just about to risk a quick peak down at the lower level, just to be sure everything is alright when his men, when a subtle flicker of the darkness out of the corner of his eye catches his attention. Whipping around, Arthur glares into the shadows, eyes squinting.

  
For a moment, there's nothing. Just empty blackness...

  
But then--

  
"SIRE!"

  
Arthur's heart slams into his ribs at the fear in the knight's voice. Excalibur is drawn from its sheathe before he's even fully descended the staircase. He rushes past Gaius and Merlin--who is asleep, as he'd thought--and down the next set of stairs, throwing open the wooden door to find his men confronted by the shadowy figure his peripheral vision had caught in that one moment. And at the sight of it, a shiver claws up Arthur's back and neck. It's a fight to keep his hand from shaking as he raises his sword, forcing his expression to neutral.

  
The Awirgan Wéod is just as Gaius described it, if not even more disfigured and terrifying. As the old physician had said, it's like a moving mass of vines, stones, and spines, shifting and swaying with its breaths. Standing clear over even Percival's head, it looms above the knights, glaring down at them with a pair of oddly intelligent, yellow eyes that cut through the dark like lanterns. The creature has no discernible face and yet Arthur has the distinct feeling it tilts its head at them, observing them like a predator considering its prey.

  
Maybe fear is what spurs Arthur to speak. Maybe it's the odd way Merlin's voice seems to echo in his head. Either way, "Awirgan Wéod!" He calls out, inwardly relieved that his voice doesn't tremble. And when the creature's eyes seem to tilt the other way, Arthur swallows. "That is what you are, isn't it? The Awirgan Wéod?"

  
If the creature is trying to communicate with him, Arthur will never know. He doesn't have magic like Merlin does so that...telepathic communication won't work on him. Either way...he needs to try.

  
"My name is Arthur Pendragon, king of Camelot!" He announces, unsure of what his title would even mean to some magical monster, but he's just burning time at this point. Hoping beyond reason that somehow the problem will resolve itself... "We mean you no harm! If we've done something to anger you, we wholeheartedly apologize."

  
The creature gives him no audible response but it still doesn't move, doesn't attack, and that has to count for something. Right?

  
"The man you attacked in the forest earlier this morning is my court sorcerer, Merlin. I can assure you that he is no threat to you either. Although, he told me you spoke to him...called him by a Druidic name of prophecy. If you're trying to tell him something, some kind of message, please," He pauses for a moment, letting the plea hang in the air for a moment. "Tell me instead and I shall relay it to him. His injury is grave and he needs rest. I don't know why you attacked him but I do know that you're not known for your violence. You are a creature of intelligence, a foreseer of prophecy, or so my physician has told me..." Arthur knows he's rambling, trying to burn time, but it appears to be working. The Awirgan Wéod still hasn't advanced on them. In fact, it's only once Arthur's speech has concluded to this point that it moves at all. And when it does, it's a single, spindly vine that stretches out toward him, stopping just inches from his face.

  
The knights stiffen and raise their weapons but Arthur motions for them to remain where they are. He gulps quietly and lowers Excalibur, eyeing the vine warily. When nothing more happens, he glances up, meeting the creature's glowing eyes. But as soon as blue meets yellow, the vine closes in, just brushing Arthur's forehead...and that's when it happens.

  
A powerful flash of white light explodes behind his eyes and Arthur's head snaps back, a foreign...yet familiar sensation racing across his skin. It's like electricity on his limbs but thrums in his veins like adrenaline. Magic, he realizes.

  
And that's when he realizes his mind is being filled with a jumble of confusing, jagged, broken images. First, there's the light. Searing hot and brighter than the sun. Then, there are fuzzy moments of people he's never seen, voices he's never heard. He's vaguely aware that Gwaine is shouting in his ear, he can hear the clanging of metal and pained cries...but he can't move. He knows he's laying on the ground now, his body convulsing in the dead grass.

  
More images stab through his mind so forcefully he moans in pain. Now things look familiar. He knows he's looking at Camelot, the lower town. It's night. There's a...girl. In a cage. She's lovely, with fair skin and dark hair and frightened, mousy eyes. For some reason, his heart tugs at the sight of her. He knows her from somewhere... Voices that are not his own or Gwaine's suddenly fill his hears. He recognizes one as Merlin's, the other is the girl's and although he knows he should remember her, he simply can't. They're no longer in the town now, but somewhere smaller, more enclosed. _Safer._ A foreign mind supplies for him.

  
There are candles flickering around them, small flames floating in the air. A smile. An accidental rose that was supposed to be a strawberry. A kiss.

  
_Freya..._

  
Freya?

  
Yes, that's who the girl is! Freya, the guardian of the lake of Avalon! The spirit who saved Merlin's life! Although...in the disjointed memories--or are they visions?--going through his head, the girl most certainly isn't a spirit. She's alive.

  
It's only then that he realizes...

  
Are these...Merlin's memories?

  
_"Why are you so good to me?"_

  
_"...because...I can't help it. Um...because I like you. With you, I can just be who I am. We don't have to hide anything. We don't have to worry."_

  
With a pang of guilt of sadness, Arthur decides that was definitely Merlin's voice. And Freya's. So if these are Merlin's memories...why is Arthur seeing them? How is he seeing them?

  
_"They're going to find me...I can't go back in that cage...!"_

  
_"Shh,"_

  
_"I can't...!"_

  
_"I won't let that happen. I promised I'd look after you, and I will. No matter what."_

  
He can hear sniffling and quiet, fearful whimpers.

  
_"You really don't know how special you are, do you?"_

  
_"...you're not scared of me?"_

  
_"Being different is nothing to be scared of."_

  
A moment later, their lips meet and the images disappear from Arthur's head in another violent flash of light, leaving everything in his mind dark and grey and empty. Like he's floating facedown in muddy water.

  
_"Emrys..."_

  
Arthur stiffens at this voice. It's different from the others. Louder, more guttural, but also...like a hiss. A pair of yellow eyes cut through the darkness and he tries to move, to scramble away or float or whatever it is he's doing. But he can't move again. In the recesses of this empty plain, he can hear the voice speaking before he understands it. The words are in another language entirely but eventually, as they echo through the space around him, they seem to translate themselves.

  
_"You and the Once and Future King have defied your destines. Fate has foretold that Arthur was meant to die at Great Battle but it was you, Emrys, who gave your life instead. It was your blood that touched the binding waters of the Lake of Avalon...but your time is not yet upon us, Emrys. You still have much to do in this world...but with Arthur alive, and the ban on magic lifted, Albion has become a much more dangerous place for you to continue your work. The King's deeds cannot be undone now and so you and he must live with the consequences...for if either of you were to die now, Albion will never unite and will fall into the deepest darkness you could ever imagine._

  
_"You must live, Emrys, Arthur. Hear this prophecy and know that the ripples of Lake of Fate will not be kind to you, as they are never kind to those who disturb its peace. But if Albion is to rise, it now falls onto the shoulders of one to protect the other._

Suddenly Arthur is aware of another presence with him in this strange place. He tries to turn, to find who it is, but he sees nothing but emptiness. Somehow, he knows the answer anyway. Merlin is here with him.

 _"A great danger approaches, Emrys. The Triple Goddess has found herself another priestess, this one even more dangerous than the witch Morgana. She means to kill you, Emrys, and she already knows who you are. Her plan is already in action. You must be vigilant or you will fall at her feet. And Arthur, There's a small pause in which Arthur feels a knot twist into his stomach. From the creature's voice, he can tell this isn't going to be good._ _"From the moment Merlin took the Druid Boy's blade for you, a thousand times have I warned you of this very event. And in a thousand lifetimes, you have failed to protect him from the priestess. In every ripple of the Lake until now, Emrys has been killed by the witch. Albion has fallen and darkness has consumed the world. You must keep him safe from her, Arthur. It falls to you now, to protect Albion's future. And Merlin's. This time, the Lady of the Lake will not be able to bring him back."_

  
Arthur tries to open his mouth and speak, to question this mysterious voice as to what all that means. It's, what, his destiny now to protect Merlin? And if either of them die, Albion will suffer? Except...what the hell is Albion? However, Arthur is unable to make a sound. He tries to sense Merlin's presence again, feeling uneasy now that the space around him has gone silent.

  
_"Arthur?"_

  
The king stiffens at the sound of the familiar voice and tries to respond, but fails once again.

  
_"My Lord, are you alright?"_

  
_"Sire?"_

  
Arthur struggles in the dark silence of this strange world and the more he fights, the easier it becomes to move, as if he were stuck in a deep, muddy bog but slowly worming his way free.

  
_"What happened?!"_

  
_"I don't know exactly. The creature grazed him with one of its appendages and he just collapsed."_

  
_"Percival, fetch Gaius! My Lord, can you hear me? My Lord?"_

  
_"He's breathing at least..."_

  
_"And he's no longer convulsing as he was before."_

  
_"What do you think happened, Leon?"_

  
_"I haven't an earthly idea... Are you sure the beast is gone?"_

  
_"Appears so. It disappeared right into thin air, as if it was never there."_

  
_"Strange..."_

  
_"What happened?"_

  
_"Gaius, something has happened to the king. He made contact with the creature and then collapsed."_

  
_"He's not wounded?"_

  
_"Not that I can see."_

  
_"Hm, bring him inside. I'll have a look at him."_

  
_"Of course."_

  
Despite the obvious concern his men have for him at the moment, hearing their voices has a sort of tranquilizing effect on the weary king. He's vaguely aware of his limp body being lifted off the ground and carried by several strong pairs of arms but his mind is fading fast. He hadn't thought the darkness around him could get any stronger, but it does. Soon, his consciousness is swallowed by the void and he's left numb and floating again.

  
And yet, that familiar presence still lingers right beside him.

  
_"Are you alright, Merlin?"_ He asks somehow, even though it had been impossible before when he was trying.

  
_"I think so. You?"_ His friend's voice echoes back to him.

  
_"Fine...tired."_ He admits.

  
_"Then rest."_ Merlin suggests, sounding exhausted himself. _"I think we're safe now. The Awirgan Wéod is gone, it told us what we needed to hear."_

  
_"I suppose...did you actually understand any of that?"_

  
Weak laughter swirls in his head and Arthur can't help but feel the ghost of a smile on his own non-existent lips. _"Not a bit of it. Then again, prophecy is never straight forward. As far as I can tell, there's a danger coming and we need to be careful."_

  
_"A new priestess...even stronger than Morgana."_ Arthur affirms distantly, feeling a worried tug in his faraway chest.

  
_"Arthur,"_ Merlin protests, his voice sounding further away than before. _"Rest. We can figure it out later."_

  
Hearing the weariness in the sorcerer's voice echoing the bone-deep exhaustion in his own distant body, Arthur decides to listen to him. And as soon as that semi-conscious decision is made, his awareness dims once again, leaving him floating in dark nothingness, Merlin's presence fading into the background but not disappearing entirely.

  
Somehow, as Arthur gives into rest, he gets the feeling that even if he were to lose himself entirely to this sleeping void, Merlin would still be there. Waiting for him...

* * *

  
It seems like it takes hours for him to wake. He knows it's only been a matter of minutes, or maybe even seconds, but it feels like it takes an eternity to crawl his way back to consciousness, to be able to register what the voices around him are saying.

  
"Sire?" It's Leon, he thinks. "Sire, can you hear me?"

  
"Mmfnn..." He grumbles, groggily pushing at the hands that are shaking his shoulders, probably trying to wake him. It takes a moment to realize that the sounds coming from his lips don't make nearly as much sense outside his head than within. So he clears his throat and tries again. "I'm fine." He grinds out, lifting a hand to rub his brow, where a pounding headache has started up. He doesn't bother opening his eyes when he asks, "How are the men?"

  
"Alright, My Lord." Leon assures him. "The creature had no interest in them. It'd fled, Sire."

  
"Good," He nods, finally forcing open his heavy eyelids. It's only then that he really comprehends where he is, as well as how much time must have truly passed. He's laying on his back on the stone floor of the tower. His chainmail has been removed, leaving him in his red tunic and trousers. Numbly, his fingers reach for Excalibur and he feels a soft pang of relief when he finds the blade still by his side. But the relief doesn't last long... "Where's Merlin?" He asks, noticing with concern that the spot he occupies is previously where his friend had been laying.

  
"Awake, Sire." Leon tells him, a little smile on his face. "Although still weak, apparently. Gaius has him up and walking around a bit to regain some strength for the ride home. That is...if you're feeling up to it..."

  
Arthur nods his head and moves to sit up, allowing Leon to take his arm and help him in the movement that causes a spark of pain to crackle along the top of his head. He winces but if the other knight notices, he doesn't say anything. "How long ago did Merlin wake?" He asks, mostly to distract himself from the throbbing headache.

  
"Only moments before we brought you inside." Leon says. "At it would seem, Sire, his magic began to heal him. Gaius seems to think it has something to do with the beast's abrupt disappearance."

  
"Disappearance?" The king echoes, confusion touching his expression.

  
"Yes, My Lord. We didn't even have a chance to attack it. As soon as it reached out and touched you it just...vanished."

  
Arthur opens his mouth to speak again when he hears the door opening on the floor below him. A few moments later prove Gwaine, Gaius, and Merlin slowly making their way up the steps. The former two tightly grasping the young warlock's shoulders to keep him from falling. Probably because Merlin looks a wreck... All pale skin and dark shadows under his eyes, which light up at the sight of his friend awake.

  
Part of Arthur wants to remark about him being such a girl for looking so feeble and broken, but the other half is just happy to see him awake again... Feeling Leon's eyes on him, the king clears his throat and motions for the knight to return to his post outside the tower, to which he is met with a dutiful nod.

  
Leon brushes past Gwaine, elbowing him on the way to the stairs. The rugged knight flashes him a curious look, and Leon suggests he return to his duties as well.

  
_Bless you, Leon._ Arthur smirks to himself because Gaius? Gaius, he can be sentimental around. The old man is too professional to tease him about caring for his careless former-manservant. But Gwaine? Arthur would sooner jump right off a very steep cliff than give him anymore reason to call him a 'princess'. And right now, Arthur is in that sentimental 'I care about you, you complete idiot' mood.

  
So as soon as Gwaine has decided to follow Leon out of the tower, Gaius carefully helps Merlin lower himself to the floor, purposefully right across from the king, who's trying desperately to conceal his relieved smile. And once Merlin is safely sitting down, Gaius makes himself sparse to the other side of the room, obviously eavesdropping but Arthur pretends he doesn't notice.

  
"Still alive, then?" The king asks, the question meant to sound stern and uncaring but comes out far softer than he intended. Which is oddly okay because of the gentle smile that touches Merlin's lips hearing it.

  
"Yeah, surprisingly." The sorcerer replies, his hand absently brushing the bandaged wound on his abdomen. "How about you?" He asks, quirking a teasing grin. "Last thing I knew, you were perfectly fine. But when I woke up you were out cold..."

  
Arthur shrugs one shoulder in response. "Yeah, it's almost like I was mentally assaulted by a giant plant monster..." He can't help but chuckle at Merlin's laughter, especially with the oddly giddy feeling that rises in his stomach at the sound of it. He hadn't truly thought Merlin would die (at least, he'll never admit that he did)...but it's never easy watching a friend so injured and miserable. Especially Merlin, who's suffered so much already in the past ten years...

  
"Yeah, about that," Merlin begins once they've both sobered a bit from their relieved giggles. "Did you understand any of what it said?"

  
"Nothing more than you, I suppose." Arthur sighs, leaning back against the craggy wall behind him. Merlin nods his head, a thoughtful expression on his face.

  
"We should return to Camelot as soon as possible." The sorcerer mutters. "If this danger is as close as the creature seemed to want us to believe it is, then we must be vigilant."  
"You're right, of course." Arthur agrees, slowly rising to his feet, despite the pain in his head. He's sure Merlin must feel it too, after all, on top of the other injuries he's suffering from. And he's not complaining at all. "As soon as you're feeling up to it." He says, knowing what Merlin's response is going to be, even before he says it.

  
"I'm ready now."

  
"Are you sure?"

  
"I'm sure."

  
Arthur smirks and extends a hand, helping his friend back to his feet. Together, they make their way toward the steps, Merlin pausing only briefly to inform Gaius of their imminent departure. The physician looks skeptical but apparently doesn't argue because Merlin joins Arthur at the stairs a few seconds later and soon, they're hobbling down the steps side by side, leaning on each other for support, as they always do...

* * *

  
It ends up taking much longer than usual to return to Camelot, what with all the breaks Gaius insists they take so they don't wear themselves and get worse again. Those reminders are always punctuated sharply with the old man nodding his head in Merlin's direction. So Arthur can't rightly refuse, can he?

  
But despite their crawling pace, they somehow manage to return by the next morning and are greeted wholeheartedly by Camelot guards running their morning patrol.

  
"I have a message for you from Queen Guinevere, My Lord." One of them says upon riding up beside the king and his men. He clears his throat, obviously fighting a smile and Arthur can only imagine the earful he's going to receive from his wife upon returning home... "She sends her sincerest wishes that you and your men are well and says she can't wait to see you returned. She waits for you in the physician's quarters, My Lord."

  
"Very good, thank you." Arthur says with a little grin, hearing the acid in those words even through the guard's mouth. Guinevere has been queen for only a few, short years and already she's a master at concealing her true meaning behind pretty words. But her message rings clear and true to Arthur's ears. "We're going to have a long talk about this when you get home, dear husband." Is the loose translation.

  
He's already mentally preparing himself for explaining every painstaking detail as to why he was missing in the forest for twenty-four hours... As well as the taxing undertaking of assuring her that he's fine, Merlin's fine, everyone is _fine_. Lord knows that woman is a worrier...

  
"Do you wish me to ride a message ahead, Sire?" The guard asks, his horse whinnying as if in approval.

  
"Yes," Arthur decides, glancing back at his troop of tired, hungry men. "Inform the queen that we are all in relatively good health and shall be home soon." When the guard ducks his head in a bow, Arthur holds up a hand to stop him from riding off immediately. And with a knowing smirk, adds, "And have the kitchens send up enough food for twelve men who haven't eaten in nearly twenty four hours..."

  
The guard snickers quietly and asks, "Is that all, Sire?"

  
"That's all." The king replies and the guard rides off, far faster than any of them could hope to match in their exhausted conditions. Arthur is just ushering Llamrei into a decent trot again when he senses, rather than hears, Merlin riding up beside him.

  
"That was good thinking, Arthur." The sorcerer remarks quietly, his shadowy eyes studying Arthur's face closely. "By the looks of some of the men, they could use a good meal."  
"We could all use some good food in our stomachs right now, I think." The king agrees without even looking over, musing distantly at the strange way his mind is able to supply the look on his friend's face, the way he shifts in the saddle to accommodate his wounds, the way he's still staring relentlessly...

  
"Arthur--"

  
"I don't know what it is." Arthur interrupts before Merlin is even able to start his thought. "But I think something...changed when we the creature gave us that vision."  
Merlin hesitates for a moment and behind his eyes, Arthur can see the contemplative look on his face. One he's seen many times. "What do you mean?" He's playing dumb, trying to get Arthur to elaborate on the very oddity he must also be experiencing.

  
So Arthur plays along. "I don't really know how to explain it but..." Lowering his voice, he leans over slightly, finally turning his head to really see Merlin. Although the actual image is no different than what his mind was telling him. "It's like we're..." Licking his lips, he tries--and fails--to come up with a way of phrasing it that doesn't sound girlish and crazy. ".. _.connected_ or something now."

  
And the small smile that touches Merlin's mouth is confusing...but also comforting in its own way. It means he's feeling it too. And now it's the sorcerer's turn to look away, to trust his mind's eye to tell him what the other man is thinking. "We've always been connected, Arthur." He says softly. "Destiny has always bound us together...but until now, I thought I was the only one who felt it..." His smile turns almost coy when he looks back again, that familiar mischief shining in his eyes. "Suppose I was wrong."

  
And maybe it's the fact that they've just survived yet another seemingly deadly attack by a monstrous creature, or the exhaustion finally getting to him...or maybe it's this new 'connection' between them but... Arthur can't help the smile or the amused snort that follows his friend's words. He can't help noticing with painstaking detail the way Merlin's posture screams discomfort and pain and exhaustion but also the way the early morning sunlight makes him look healthier than the night before, the way it almost sparkles in his dark hair and in his tired, blue eyes.

  
Maybe it's this new 'destiny' he's supposedly been bestowed but...something feels different now. Merlin has always been important to him, always been the closest friend he's ever had. But now, it's like...Merlin just is. Like he's the most important person in the world and he would take a sword to the heart to protect him and if anything ever happened to him... Gods. It's like a dark cloud squeezes his heart just at the thought.

  
So is this what knowing your destiny feels like? Is this how Merlin has felt all this time?

  
Suddenly, Merlin taking a fatal blow from Mordred's blade seems a little more...justified. A little more understandable. It doesn't take a lot of imagination to put himself in that exact same place had the situation been reversed.

  
Arthur has always had an inclination, an _urge_ to keep Merlin safe. But that was nothing more than wanting to protect a good friend. Compared to this, that feels like a whim. _This_ is different. He knows that, without a shadow of doubt, that if Merlin's life was at risk, he would do everything and anything in his power to protect him. He would take an arrow to the head, a dagger to the heart, if it meant keeping him safe. And that's...a little scary, actually. It's scary knowing that, if given the choice...well it wouldn't _be_ a choice. If came down to Camelot or Merlin...well...his mind tells him to choose Camelot, that his kingdom is more precious. But his soul, his _destiny_ says there can only be Merlin.

  
"Arthur?" Merlin asks quietly, a curious arch in his eyebrow.

  
"Hm?" The king replies, distantly, still caught up in musings of destiny. Still, he recognizes the amused, yet slightly condescending squint to Merlin's eyes as he leans in to whisper,

  
"I'm not sure I care to know what you're thinking about but...if you continue staring at me like that, the knights might start to thinks things..." There's light laughter under his words but Arthur still flushes red in embarrassment at the knowledge he'd been staring.

  
"Think what? That you're a complete idiot?" He snaps, a little harsher than necessary, turning his head away and silently resenting the fact that he can still "see" the way Merlin rolls his eyes.

  
"Pff, and here I thought you'd finally started to appreciate me." The warlock sighs and shakes his head. "Suppose you're too much of a prat to realize how much I do for you."  
"Merlin, sometimes I wonder if it's made it through your thick skull that I'm king and you can't address me like that!"

  
"Oh yes, I nearly forgot. You're a royal prat. I apologize for the mistake, Your Majesty."

  
"You might just be the most insufferable clotpole I've ever met!"

  
"That's still my word...!"

  
" _Me_ rlin--"

  
"Ah, good to see absolutely _nothing_ has changed." Gwaine remarks, a little too loudly, resulting in a chorus of laughter from the other men.

  
Flushing red, Merlin and Arthur both glare heatedly back at the knight, who shrugs lamely under their scowls. But of course it's all an act. A second later, the two of them are snickering right along with the other, relishing in the fact that they're alive, and despite all that's changed, nothing really has...

* * *

  
"Arthur...!" Gwen smiles in relief at the sight of her husband coming through the door of the physician's quarters, looking tired and disheveled but alive. The queen is on her feet in seconds, crossing the room to the greet him. And she's met with a warm embrace and Arthur's chin settling onto the crown of her head, peppering gentle kisses into her hair. "I was worried about you." She breathes as the rest of the men slowly make their way into the room, settling down onto the various seats and then eventually on the floor, against the walls, and anywhere they can rest their weary bodies.

  
"I'm sorry, Guinevere." He replies gently, finally moving back so he can see his wife's eyes, shimmering with affection. "I promise I'll explain everything later." When he's met with an understanding nod, Arthur smiles and leans in, pressing one more, tender kiss to Gwen's lips. "Right now I've got to see to it that my men are taken care of."

  
"Of course." She agrees. Lowering her voice, she motions to Merlin, who has grudgingly allowed Gwaine to help him up the steps to Gaius's chambers. "How's Merlin?"  
As if it were his own, Arthur can feel an echo of his friend's weakness, his exhaustion, as well as a phantom pain shooting through his abdomen. "Weak, and in need of rest."  
"But he'll be alright?" She urges, eyeing the warlock sadly.

  
"Of course." Arthur assures her. "He's been through worse, after all." _And it's not his destiny to die here..._ Shivering slightly at the foreboding feeling that always comes when he thinks of the creature's prophecy, the king watches Gwaine carefully lowering Merlin on to the table by the fireplace so that Gaius can have another look at his wounds.

  
_"In every ripple until now, you have failed to save him from the witch..."_

  
Arthur swallows nervously, his stomach tying itself into knots at the easy smile on Merlin's face as he talks with Gwaine and Gaius and the others. How, despite his injuries, he's alive.

  
Arthur never, _ever_ wants that to change...

  
_I'll protect him_ , He assures himself, his jaw squaring in determination. _Or die trying._


End file.
